Pink Umbrella
by nanirain
Summary: Kagome once had a 'normal' life. But its funny how typhoons and a world famous, motorcyle riding novelist can change all. He claims he saved her life by almost running her over. Kagome can't stand her savior, but she has nowhere else to go.
1. The Umbrella

Chapter I: It will never be the same…

**A/N**: Ok so I've actually been working on this for a while, but since I was working on seven other stories I decided to wait a while to post it. However, my inspiration for the others seems to be running desperately low. So… Low and behold – here's another one.  hope you like. (And also hope that I didn't just dig my whole another story deeper).

**Disclaimer**: Any recognizable material does not belong to me.

Her world was brimmed in pink. A light, baby colored pink, like you always see on new-born girls. That color. The thin metal lines gleamed with the raindrops that slid down the slippery slope to the pavement below, water soaked in and the concrete several shades darker than it was really meant to be. Kagome's legs were numb as ice. She didn't remember when she had lost the feeling, but it was gone now. Typhoon season had starting not so long ago, and it seemed that this year the weatherman was going to be right for once. Of all the bad timing…

She braced her hand against the thin, wet fabric of her umbrella, squinting into the wind that was making her world shake so fiercely. She was worried that the handle was going to snap soon, even while her own hands were working so hard to try to hold it together for a little while longer.

She had to get home. What would her father say if she had come home late with a snapped umbrella and no homework done when she had told him that she'd be able to work in the library? Well she knew what he would say but… what would he _do_? That was the thought that really scared Kagome, what would her father _do_?

Her pace quickened with her heartbeat as she stepped out into the road, her wet shoes making a solid clunking noise even in the rain. And she was still staring at the sopping wet dome of baby pink that covered up her world. All she could really think of was her father and how much she really needed to be able to make it home. All she could really think of was –

Screeeech!

"_Hey_!"

"Huh?"

Things seemed to go slow motion as Kagome's turned around. The sound of her heartbeat, the solid sheet of dark gray rain blending together with her now gray world, the big black motorcycle a few feet away that was sleek and shining and fishtailing wildly out of control, the spray of the water, clear and cold splashing up her skirt… the hand of the rider, his face hidden behind the helmet, his bare fingers and palm reaching out into the rain to push her down as the bike and him was on spun recklessly toward her. And still… she couldn't move.

"Watch it!"

Crash.

She hit the ground hard, crying out in pain as her brain was knocked inside her skull. She tried to sit up, move her hand to check for blood… anything. But her body wouldn't respond. And somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the angry shouting. Dazed, she allowed her eyes to move a little farther up the road to see that her pink umbrella had been snapped in half, inverted and laying on the black ground and broken and useless in the pouring rain. And even if she could mange to get it fixed before she got home and her dad found out, somehow she knew it would never be the same…

**A/N**: Sorry about the short length. Shortness is usually true for my first chapters. (most of the time). Can't say the next one will be up soon, but I'd like to think it would be. ;)

**Next Time**:

"_What do you do?" Kagome asked, her brain slow and woozy feeling as she noticed the high ceilings and the glass chandelier. _

"_Save the idiotic women who decide it'd be a good bit of fun to jump in front of my motorcycle." He replied, the sarcasm still coated thickly on his voice. _

"_What?" _

"_That'd be you, bit." _


	2. I've been Dumped

Chapter Two: I've Been Dumped

He had, he realized as he kicked open the mahogany door and tromped into the reception room, been suffering, for the better part of his life, under the false impression that hospitals were supposed to be helpful.

Well, "Feh.", he had been wrong. "Worthless blokes." He muttered angrily under his breath, fuming while he impatiently tried to shrug an ice wet jacket off his shoulder, which, it turned out, was harder than to be expected, as the rain had firmly stuck the leather to his skin… or rather, _implanted_ it).

When he finally did manage to get I off, he made a face as it hit the ground, glaring at it and the large puddle that was already starting to wear away at the new varnish. The girl in his arms prevented him from picking it up.

"_She appears to be fine."_ The doctor had said earlier that day. _"Just a little roughed up; that's all. The important thing is that she shows no irregular brainwaves, or signs of permanent damage etc. We suspect that it was just the impact which caused her to faint." _

He remembered that he had stared at the doctor, so professional in his white coat and clipboard for a very long time. _What_ was all that supposed to mean? And _why _was this bloke even _telling_ him this? It wasn't as if he had anything to do with it anymore. He had brought the bloody girl to the bloody hospital like a responsible bloke, hadn't he? As far as he had been concerned, that was above and beyond his call of duty.

Apparently he had been wrong.

"_The best thing for her now is to be brought home and have lots of rest… She should probably take it easy for a while, as in the next few days. No exhausting or intense activities like sports, etc. She should just get lots bed rest. Doctor's orders._"

Inuyasha could distinctly remember thinking that he definitely did _not _like the look the other man was giving him… he knew what the doctor wanted from him, oh yeah he knew, but there was no way he was going to volunteer to play babysitter for some psycho broad who liked to jump in front of oncoming traffic. That was the last thing he needed.

When the silver haired man had not taken up the clue, the doctor decided to try the painfully direct approach. "… Mr. Takahashi, you should get this girl home and take care of her. After all, you _were_ the one who saved her this afternoon…."

Inuyasha had blinked, rather stunned and only a little angry because the feeling hadn't had the chance to sink in yet. When he spoke his voice was low and gravely and filled with more malice than he had intended to fill it with. "_Excuse me_?"

The doctor had been one of the few people in the world that Inuyasha had run into who was immune to the infamous Takahashi Glare. All the Takahashi's had it, could do it, it was their sort of family trademark and frankly, it typically pierced people to the core with fear.

But the doctor… the doctor had stared Inuyasha right back in the face, unaffected by the withering golden intensity, and Inuyasha hadn't liked it at all. _"We would take her ourselves, of course."_ The doctor had said, looking over the rim of his lemon colored glasses to stare at Inuyasha's defiant golden eyes. "_But we have our hands full with the rest of the typhoon victims. You do understand, of course,_… _don't you_?"

Inuyasha gave a disgusted snort as he hauled the unconscious girl up to his kitchen counter and dumped her onto the kitchen counter, her dark black hair swirling in a raven waterfall into the sink. She was soaking wet all over.

Inuyasha didn't pay her any mind when he heard her arm slip from her stomach and fall over the counter edge, hanging limply over the counter's edge, her skin pale against the turquoise tile. He could hear water dripping. But as long as the majority of her body was still on the counter top he didn't really care what she did, and a glance over his shoulder identified the sound: cold, clear water droplets were sliding down her fingers and clinging helplessly to her fingertips before dripping down to the floor in rhythmic time.

Yeah, he understood.

"They have _their _bloody hands full…" He repeated what he had been told an hour ago by the nurse. He was still irritated and grouchy at having to be dumped on by the Tokyo hospital. "And I _don't_?" He asked no one in particular, kicking his shoes off and sticking a mug of leftover coffee in the microwave. "_I've_ got all the bloody time in the bloody _world_?" He asked.

Unconsciously his fingers started working on the black hair tie that was holding back his silver hair in a long, wet ponytail. Inuyasha made his way over to a wooden stool and sat down heavily, propping his feet up on the island in the middle of the room. He glanced up momentarily at the girl, who had groaned and rolled her face his way. His plan had been just to check up on her - making sure that she was still unconscious, seeing that she was – and then continuing to ring out the icy water from his waist-length hair…

But… for some reason, once his eyes came up to see her still form sprawled so gracefully over the tile, silent and helpless and elegant and so completely soaking wet… and the way the transparent white fabric if her uniform was clinging to her skin, to her every curve and dip and hollow of her shape… he found that, just for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to look away. She was like an angel.

But he only thought that for a moment. He was only trapped there, looking at her, for a moment. A fraction of a second. And he could easily brush that off as nothing at all. He could easily pretend to himself, make himself_ believe_ that it hadn't even happened. He could do it so easily that he didn't even notice that he had done it at all and just like that the moment, the thought was gone.

As if it hadn't been enough to almost run over some school girl who had run out into the middle of the bloody road, in the middle of a bloody _typhoon_, when he had seen her face while she sprawled on the pavement he had nearly had a heart attack too. It was Kikyo… he had just run over _Kikyo_… Shit! Oh, bloody hell - a _shit_! W-was that _good_ or _bad_? And then he'd realized – thank god he'd realized, because he finally could breathe again, that it wasn't her… Jesus.

"Uh…" The girl groaned painfully, the hand that hung over the edge of the counter moving a little making a gentle drumming sound as her fingers were still dripping the clear, cold rain. Inuyasha took a moment to look at how long and elegant her hands were… her fingers had to be the most slender, graceful things he had ever seen on anybody. They were like a work of art… maybe she was an artist… she ought to do _something _with those hands…. A doctor?

Inuyasha growled as he squeezed out the water from his hair, ignoring it as it slapped against the floor. And that _doctor_, that bloody doctor with that bloody nurse who had, at first, presumed that he was some sort of unstable, stalker-boyfriend who _deliberately_ ran over his ex-girl in the middle of the storm to get on some twisted revenge ploy… was _everybody_ off their rocker today?

Or maybe it was Miroku. Maybe he had set it up again…

Inuyasha's face adopted a nasty expression as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He had, admittedly, tried to avoid letting the lecherous doctor – also one of his few childhood friends – near the unconscious girl. After all, the last thing she needed was to be felt up by some creep during a –achem- '_examination_'.

Not that Inuyasha really cared… at all, but if he was going to go through all the hassle of swerving to avoid her and scooping her unconscious arse off the road to take her somewhere to the hospital, the least he could do was make sure that she wasn't left in Miroku's dangerous – if not capable - hands.

He could just see the mischievous little glint that would have entered Miroku's dark lavender eyes if Inuyasha had brought in pretty high school girl for him, a high school girl who was wet, unconscious, gorgeous and totally unable to defend herself… Inuyasha repressed a disgusted shudder. Miroku, Miroku, Miroku… he may have been the great medical contribution to the world, but he was _still_ a perverted creep.

_Ding._

Inuyasha was pulled out of his inner venting when the microwave announced that his coffee was done. Standing up with a heavy sigh, he reached into the machine and pulled out the steaming cup, breathing in the vapors that were rolling off the surface in delicate curls.

He felt better already. The only thing that would make him happier was a bowl of Ramen…

Treasuring the coffee cup and pressing it to his chest like a hot-pad, he walked back to the stool and resumed his lounging position, opening his lips to sip the coffee, waiting for the hot, bitter taste to warm his limbs.

"Mmm."

Momentarily he glanced up, lowering the coffee cup away from his face to he look up at her. She was still asleep. Shrugging, he lifted the mug to his lips.

"Mmmmm."

He glanced up, but she was still out like a light. He grit his teeth together in annoyance… but told himself that the coffee would help…

"Mmmm… mm."

Like lightening his eyes shot up to her form. Her angelic face was frowning, a thread of ebony hair threaded over her cheek… but she was still asleep.

He gave her the Takahashi glare, even though he knew that it didn't really serve any purpose to someone who couldn't see it, and went for the coffee again.

"_Mmm_."

"_What_!" He snapped, now way past annoyed. "Do you have something against me drinking a bloody bit of coffee?" He demanded. But to no avail. She didn't hear.

Slowly, tensely, Inuyasha lifted the coffee mug back up to his lips, his golden eyes glowering at her still form the entire time, staring over the black rim of the cup… it was almost as if he were daring her to make a noise. When he could feel the coffee's warmth against his lips he paused, waiting… but she was perfectly still.

'_Figures._' He thought bitterly as he closed his eyes and took a sip.

"Mmm."

The coffee mug hit the counter with a slam as Inuyasha stood angrily, his stool screeching out behind him as he slammed a fist down into the counter alongside the cup. "_Dammit_, woman!" He yelled. "What is your _problem_?"

She said nothing.

And he stared, his face flushing as he realized how silly it was of him to be taking out his frustrations by yelling at an unconscious girl who couldn't even hear him…

"Stay asleep or wake the hell up." He said roughly as he sat back down, though in rather more tense fashion than before. "But don't keep moaning at me like that." He said. "It gets on my nerves."

And still no response from the sleeping girl. Big surprise.

Eventually he sighed, studying her. There was something rather… compelling about her he supposed. Maybe she was moaning at him because she as uncomfortable being dumped there on the counter like a wet bag of groceries instead of like a human girl… But, did he really care?

"Mmm." She said softly, her head lolling to the side.

For a moment a muscle in his jaw flexed and he grit his teeth together, ready to shout some more. But… with a sigh he released his anger. He didn't feel like going over the edge today… he'd had enough.

As he turned around to go up to his room, snatching up his coffee and defiantly taking a sip – only part of him realizing how silly it was that he was rebelling against a sleeping school girl by drinking coffee - he was seriously planning to leave her on the counter to dry and wake up in her own good time. That way she could moan and groan as much as she bloody wanted and he wouldn't have to be around…

Slowly he stopped, not sure why. He felt his shoulders tense, and then relax. _What _was wrong with him today? Grudgingly, he went to the counter, nudging aside her feet as if they were objects to pick up the cordless phone and dial the number of the local hospital – which was copied in bleary green ink on the palm of his hand. He could hardly read it, it was so badly smudged.

"Hello, Tokyo hospital. How may I help you?"

"Yeah," Inuyasha said, resting his forehead on his forearm which rested on the cabinet in the wall, he closed his eyes and pinched his nose as he pressed the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, rotating his coffee mug on the counter with a steady grounding noise. "My name is Inuyasha Takahashi-"

"_Aiiiiieeeee_!" The scream was high enough and shrill enough shatter though twelve stain glass windows… let alone his eardrums.

Instinctively, he jerked his ear away from the phone. But he did it so quickly that he felt the whiplash ring up his entire spine. The phone clattered to the counter with a crash but he ignored it, putting his hand to the sharp pain developing in his stiff neck, cringing against the achy throbbing in his ears.

"_**You're** Inuyasha Takaha-!_"

Inuyasha scowled and abruptly pressed the off button, cutting the wailing and screeching voice off to create relieving silence. Great. So the receptionist was a fan – that was _just_ what he needed. Now what the bloody hell was he supposed to do? He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the girl lying on his counter, before closing his them again in frustration. It was all her fault anyway… why was he helping her? How thick can you get to run in front of a green light in the middle of a _typhoon_? He asked himself incredulously, looking at her in utter disbelief.

"Well, nothing can be done about it now." He said slowly, grudgingly, while he grabbed up his coffee mug and dialed a new number into the phone. He knew he had been trying to avoid this all day long, but now he had no choice.

"Mok." A deep, calm voice answered the phone on the first ring. "How may I help-"

"It's me." Inuyasha said, cutting 'Mok' off.

"Oh." In one word all of the polite pretenses and airs that the voice had previously possessed melted away to a tone of recognition and casualty.

"Yeah." Inuyasha filled in the silence. "Glad to see the offer still stands once you find out it's me…" he said sarcastically, taking a sip from his mug and ignoring as best he could the moan that the girl emitted – he would kill her if he found out that she was awake and just toying with him.

"Do you _need_ help?" Mok asked, sounding rather amused. "I never expected," he said in mock surprise, "_that _y_ou_ of all people, would be asking me for-" Inuyasha could practically see the smug smile on Mok's lips.

"Are you always this much of an arse to your patients?" Inuyasha asked, feeling better already now that he was talking to his friend. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. At least one part of his world hadn't been turned upside down this afternoon.

There was a short laugh on Mok's end. "Yes, always. What's going on anyway? You're sound as if you're in a bit of a bad mood… or, worse than usual anyway."

Inuyasha tensed, looking at the girl before he sighed and let himself relax. He supposed he had been a bit… tense. But it had been a rough day. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Inuyasha said, running his free hand through his hair and holding it away from his face. He ignored the baby wisps of silver that still fell over his forehead and into his eyes, kissing his skin and lids with dampness. "Today was hell."

"And you called to gossip about it?" Asked the skeptical voice.

Inuyasha allowed himself a short laugh before shifting his weight onto his other foot, the floor was cold against his feet. "Shut up, already. I need a favor."

There as a long silence on the other end before his friend finally replied, his words cautious. "… What kind of favor?"

Inuyasha smirked at his friend's obvious suspicion and distrust. "Miroku, I need you to tell me how to take care of a girl."

And on the other end there was complete silence.

The next morning, the first thing Kagome knew was the liquid light splashing all over her face. When she opened her eyes she could see it, the fire, streaming along the wooden logs like a trail of bubbles underwater and flickering in a strange dance. She felt thick and warm and sleepy, the faint scent of cinnamon and ginger mixing together to envelope her consciousness. And toasty white sheets were wrapped around her in a thick cocoon, folding up along her body, wrapped snugly around her to her cheeks. She was content.

Granted, she didn't have a clue as to where she was or how she got there, but she knew she was warm, and she knew she felt safe, and that was a big improvement from her last state of being cold and wet and scared. Kagome closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow, feeling the warmth of the fire and drifting back to sleep…

"Hey." A voice said from behind her. "Don't let yourself get that comfortable."

Kagome's eyes popped open.

"You're still sleeping in _my_ bed."

She rolled over to the sound of the voice and tried to sit up. But the sharp pain immediately blossomed inside her head and it made her mind reel, her vision white with pain as she fell back down. "_Ow_…"

"Yeah, I bet."

There was a man standing in a doorway, leaning casually with his shoulder against the frame, a mug of coffee in his right hand, looking at her. She looked back at him, stunned, numbly taking in his appearance. He had beautiful eyes, such a light brown color in the morning light… they almost looked gold. And his hair was long and silver, straight as an arrow and tied back into a low pony tail at the nape of his neck, hanging down to his waist like a curtain, wisps of bangs teasing into his golden eyes. "_What_?" he asked, his tone blunt, "What are you looking at?"

"You're hair." She said. "I didn't… It's silver."

The man blinked at her blatant response, taking a minute to absorb it into his mind. He had been expecting some sort of graceless attempt at a save, something like '_Oh, um, you've got something on your face… right there._' Or '_You've got um… great skin, do you sunbathe?"_'

It was the kind of thing everybody else said when he caught them staring at his eyes or at his hair. But the girl's answer had been blunt and honest… very untypical. And he hadn't been prepared for that.

"Heh." He smiled a little, maybe she was actually an honest girl. "What about it?"

"It's silver." Or incredibly dense.

"Very good." The man replied sarcastically, raising the mug of coffee in a mock toast before he brought it back to his lips. The mug was black and brown and coated over with a heavy glaze… it looked like it had been home-made. "And, uh, my sweater is black incase you missed that, bit." He said, plucking the cashmere material with his fingertips and letting it float back to the shape of his chest.

Kagome looked over the man's outfit critically. Thick white socks on oak, varnished floors, dark blue, sand blasted jeans, and an expansive black sweater.

"What do you do?" Kagome asked, her brain slow and woozy feeling as she noticed the high ceilings and glass chandelier.

"Save the idiotic women who decide it'd be a good bit of fun to jump in front of my motorcycle." He replied, the sarcasm still coated thickly on his voice.

"What?"

"That'd be you, Bit."

"Bit?" Kagome echoed, her nose crinkling with distaste. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

Kagome, blinked at him, her mind still slow. "You're British." She said at last as the man straightened off the doorframe and sat down on the leather couch before her, the air seeping out of the seams with a soft hiss while the cushioning molded to his form. She realized for the first time that they were in the living room, as the man leaned back and put the mug down on the coffee table between them. Looking down at the bed Kagome realized that she had, in fact, only been sleeping on a mattress that had been placed on the floor by the fire.

In response to her "you're British" comment man gave her a look that clearly was asking her if her brain was getting enough oxygen. At this point she wasn't all too sure that it was. Because something had just occurred to her. A very important something. The kind of something that should have been the very first something, when she had woken up, to come into her brain. Her oxygen deprived brain.

"Who are you?" She asked slowly. "Where _am _I?" She sat up quickly now, gripping the sides of the mattress to fight the dizziness off.

The things around her were suddenly very unfamiliar: the white walls, the wooden floor, leather furniture, the fancy artwork, even the humongous fireplace beside her… she didn't know any of it.

"Calm down." The man ordered, just as she was about to open her mouth and panic. "You're at my place."

"_You're _ place?" Kagome repeated, mystified as to why on Earth she would be in _his_ place – whoever _he _was - and wherever _his place _meant. And why he thought that the explanation he had given her: '_you're at my place_.' was supposed to make her feel calm.

"Who _are_ you?" She asked for a second time, sitting up a bit straighter, brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

"I'm the guy who owned the motorcycle you decided to dive in front of." He said, relatively calmly, though she could tell he thought he was trying to explain something to a two year old. "Do me a favor? Next time you try to pull a stunt like that pick someone _else's_ bike. Or just do it the old fashion way and bridge to jump off."

"Motorcycle?" Kagome frowned, clutching the blankets as she remembered the screeching tires, paralyzing fear, spraying water… the rain… the broken umbrella. "Never the same…" She said softly.

"What was that?"

"My umbrella." Kagome answered, turning to look at him. "The pink one… I broke it."

The man stared blankly at her from over the rim of his coffee mug. "_That's_ what you're worried about?" He asked finally, a touch of annoyance and disbelief inside his voice.

Kagome frowned, feeling a little snubbed at his response. He wasn't being very understanding. "It was my favorite." She explained.

"You almost got yourself killed." He said, looking at her as if she were sprouting another head. "Do you even understand what that _means_?" He was starting to doubt the doctor's claims that the girl wasn't suffering from some sort of brain damage.

"It was pink."

"Like road-kill?" He asked his voice getting hard and annoyed, but she ignored him again. "_You_ would have been mine… road-kill that is."

"I liked it a lot." She continued.

'_Road kill_?' He asked incredulously before he realized that she was still talking about that damned umbrella. He would have picked it up off the street if he'd known that she'd make this much of a fuss over the damn thing. "I would have been having your guts peeled off my tires." He said, trying to kick her into reality with gory images.

"My mom gave it too me."

"Like paint."

"What will Daddy say?"

'_Well this is working…_' he thought sarcastically to himself. "Hey, are you even _listening_ to me?" He asked, looking at her.

"Yes." Kagome said, suddenly looking him straight in his golden eyes, unnerving him a bit, though he'd never admit it. "And has anyone ever told you that you have a wonderful accent?" She smiled at him before she passed out again, her head falling back into the pillow and she was gone.

Inuyasha stared at her sleeping for a moment form before slowly leaning back into the sofa, his eyes tracing over a particular pattern in the ceiling. "Brilliant…" he muttered quietly to himself, putting his hand through his hair. "Just. Bloody. Brilliant."

A/N: I know the first part's a little awkward… but what can you do? Suggestions would be helpful.

No preview this time, I'm going to work on MMHA


	3. Persistance

**A/N**: It's been forever.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Inuyasha.

* * *

"Who the hell are you, and why are you so damn persistent?" Miroku muttered thickly into the phone. His eyes still closed, head still rested on his favorite pillow. 

"She's completely off her rocker!"

Miroku put his hand to the bridge of his nose and pressed hard. "_What_?"

"The girl - is - _mad_! She's raving about umbrellas!"

"Who _are _you?" Miroku nearly shouted, exasperated.

"Who _else_ would it be!?"

Oh, right.

Miroku sighed, his hand still massaging at the bridge of his nose. "If you wanted to make me very happy, you'd be Angelina Jolie in bright red… Jesus, Inuyasha, do you know what _time _it is?" He asked, squinting in horror at the fuzzy red numbers he could barely see in the dark.

"No, and I don't give a damn." Inuyasha said. In his house, he was gripping the phone in his left hand so tightly he was almost breaking it, and he'd been pacing for so long that he was dizzy – yes, apparently it _was_ possible. "You know what I _do_ give a damn about?" He asked, waving his free hand in the air and ignoring the random idiot outside of the window who tried to confusedly wave back at him from the street.

"If you were any other _normal _human being…" Miroku said thickly, "REM sleep...?" He sounded fearfully hopeful.

"Miroku?" Came a husky, half-asleep voice from the background. Inuyasha wrinkled his nose. It was a girl's voice.

"Not now. Get off." Miroku said. A small groaned protest filled the background accompanied by shifting covers.

"So, what's going on?" Miroku asked, his voice still thick with sleep as he made his way to the bathroom.

"That girl I ringed you about earlier?"

"What about her?"

"She's making bloody birds for sense." Inuyasha ground out.

"Well, maybe she has a head injury," Miroku sighed heavily as he turned on the tap. "Maybe she's in shock. You _did _almost flatten her with a motorcycle didn't you?"

"Feh. She doesn't even care." Inuyasha spat. "All she's whining about is how I broke her umbrella."

There was a long pause on the other end. And then, "Well..., _did _you?"

"_Not _the point!"

Miroku rubbed his eyes sleepily with his thumb and pointer finger, opening the door again and returning to his bedroom. "What _is_ the point, Inuyasha?" He asked, sitting back down on the edge of his California King. The silk sheets were soft and cool against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to curl up inside them and rip the chord out of his phone for the rest of the night. "If I didn't know that you had a patient I would have hung up on you already."

"Since when do _you_ give a damn about any of your patients?" Inuyasha asked, stopping dead pace.

Miroku made a small noise of disgust at the insult, closing his eyes in annoyance and promptly hitting the off button. Slamming the phone back into the cradle, he hit the bed hard, his head sinking into his favorite pillow once more. His hand hadn't even left the receiver before it started ringing again. Miroku picked it up and dropped it back down without even rolling over.

Ring.

Click.

Ring.

Click!

Ring…. Ring… Ring…Ring. Miroku looked at the phone and then sighed heavily, sitting up and once again getting out of bed. _Ring. Ring!_

He loudly shut the bathroom door to dampen the noise.

* * *

When he rang the doorbell and hour later, nobody responded. Miroku rolled his eyes and pressed the bell again, harder and longer. The idiot was probably _still _trying to call him at his house. Oh well… at least the noise might chase Naomi away, back to her _own_ apartment for once. He didn't want her getting clingy. But nurses had a tendency to be like that. Some sort of maternal care factor that made them good nurses also made them extra, extra clingy girlfriends… annoying.

He rang the doorbell again. And finally the door swung open to reveal an irate silver haired 22 year old. Inuyasha was livid.

"Piss off!" He said without bothering to see who it was at his door.

Miroku raised a thin eyebrow as he looked dryly at his friend, who stood frozen, phone still held to his face.

"God damn it, Miroku." He hit the off button. "What the hell was the point of _this_, then?" He shoved the phone into his face and Miroku shrugged.

"Entertainment?" He offered.

His friend did not seemed pleased.

"Came to examine, be doctoral, etc., mind moving?"

Inuyasha grudgingly stepped aside and let Miroku in. "I hope you know that you're paying for the phone bill." He threatened as he turned in the door frame and watched as Miroku shrugged off his large jacket and peeled away his gloves, leather briefcase at his feet.

Miroku shrugged. "Don't I always?"

"Yeah, you'd better."

"Close the door, Inuyasha."

Slam.

"She looks fine." Miroku said.

Inuyasha frowned. "You haven't even examined her yet."

"… That's not what I meant."

Inuyasha threw his hands up in the air. "That's it. I've officially had it up to here with this day."

"Technically it's tomorrow." Miroku's smile was abruptly shattered by the golden glare. He sighed heavily. "Very well. Help me move her." He walked into the kitchen to put his brief case on the counter and then returned for the girl. Together, they lifted her up and carried her into the kitchen, careful not to jar her, the laid her out on the counter. Halfway through the examination, Inuyasha got bored and stuck some frozen lemon chicken in the microwave. When the ding sounded, he took it out and peeled away the plastic and began to eat.

"So, what's wrong with her?" He asked, sitting down grumpily on the stool and starting his dinner, tying his long silver hair back.

"I don't know."

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes and looked over Miroku's shoulder. "… What are you doing?"

"Just checking on some things."

"… _Miroku_." Inuyasha growled, glaring pointedly at his friend's wandering hands.

"What?" the doctor asked looking indignant. He did, however, draw his hands back from where they had been starting to creep dangerously beneath the collar of her shirt. "It's procedure."

"Procedure my arse."

"Well, she seems fine." Miroku admitted. "She was probably just in a daze. She should just need some time. I can't believe you woke me up for this."

"I don't want anyone blaming me on her coming out looney."

"Is that the only thing you think about?" Miroku asked. "Covering your own ass?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "You do the same. Blame me?"

"…No, not really."

"Exactly."

Miroku gave a sideways smile that was half out of exasperation. "Tell me, though, did you really intend on having her spend the entire night on your living room floor?"

"She's on a mattress."

"… On the floor. And move her away from that fire. She was warm to the touch."

Inuyasha grunted. "After I finish." He said, noting the way Miroku was starting to study the lemon chicken, though he pretended not to notice. Still, he wasn't surprised when his friend said what he did.

"Do you have any extras?"

"Food or beds?" Inuyasha asked.

"Both."

Inuyasha grunted and shoveled some carrots onto the other side of his plate, poking absently before putting something in his mouth. And Miroku smiled. "You always do."

"And you _always_ have some girl that you're running away from." Inuyasha complained, after swallowing slowly.

Miroku clapped his friend firmly on the shoulder and started towards the fridge. "So." He said, as he reached in and pulled out another lemon chicken from the icebox. "I suppose it's a good thing that I know people like you after all."

And he received yet another golden glare, but this time it was from over the edge of a microwave dinner plate. And it was slightly less intimidating that way.


End file.
